


All of the Pain and Bitter Remorse

by spirithorse



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Daemon Touching, M/M, Mind Control, Tales of Berseria Spoilers, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 16:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16141361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirithorse/pseuds/spirithorse
Summary: A series of shorts written for Tales of Whump week on tumblr.





	1. Wish I Could Be Part of Your World

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the prompt list for this go up on tumblr and thought, why not? Collected here for archival purposes. Warnings in general are in the tags and are repeated/specified for each chapter. Title taken frm Amalee's cover of White Light by Superfly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A semi-sequel to the Little Mermaid AU that I did for Sormik Week. Title take from Part of Your World from The Little Mermaid.
> 
> Warning: references to past mind control/character having no agency over thier actions, offscreen rape/non-con.

_"_ _Wake up, darling king.”_

Sorey twitched, grabbing at the covers.

_“No, no. None of that. We have business to attend to.”_

Sorey shook his head, trying to kick out with his legs, but he couldn’t. He was held in place like he always was. It was there, just sitting in the back of his mind, holding him down and still until he was commanded to move. All he had were the words, the ones that would set him moving. It wasn’t freedom, and Sorey wasn’t sure if it was better than being stuck lying down.

He shuddered at the ghost of fingers across his forehead, their cold touch moving down to his cheek to cup it.

 _“Are you ready, your majesty?”_  The bed creaked.  _“It’s time to face your kingdom.”_

Sorey jerked upright, gasping for breath as his body responded to the order. He stared at the darkness of the room, his heart pounding fast as he took in the shadows that marked when the furniture was. It was all unfamiliar, which was good. It meant that he wasn’t in his room,  _their_  room.

He shuddered, reaching up to rub at his arms. He looked around at the furniture, reviewing the placement of the pieces, some part of him marveling at the ability to rub his arms. It was strange that he was allowed those ticks again. For years he had been kept in perfect form, everything just so. The perfect image of a king with his queen by his side. Later on, a daughter had been added, a princess that he couldn’t even picture. Sorey wasn’t even sure of everything that he had done in those years. He had been trapped in his own head, alternately screaming out into the void there because he couldn’t take it or just slipping back into something that might have been sleep. His consciousness hadn’t been there, but his body had kept moving, because  _she_ had wanted it to be.  _She_  had needed him alive, because he was the barrier between her and whatever waited for her in the ocean.

Sorey shuddered, clutching at his arms. He hadn’t been able to do much, but he had felt that. He had felt her fear. It was why she had made him to sign the order for the sea wall. She was afraid of the ocean.

He swallowed and stood up, walking over the window. He leaned his head against the glass, staring down at the beach. It was a different view from the ones that he was used to from his room, the sweeping view of the beach. It was the beach that he had been pulled up onto after the sinking of  _The Celestial_. The same beach where he had first found Mikleo. The same beach where he had first seen her walking, first heard that voice, the same one from when he had been rescued. He had been so sure of it and it had caught.

He could hear it even now.

Sorey jerked back at the cold press of glass against his palm, Sorey staring at the back of his hand. He didn’t remember moving it, and that made him shake.

It was too much like when she had been in control.

Sorey could hear his breathing get heavy, but louder was the sound of the waves on the beach below.

Even louder was the sound of that song.

Sorey whimpered, staring at the beach for a moment more before turning away. He managed three steps before he was sprinting.

Sorey grabbed for the door, hauling it open before stumbling out into the hallway. He didn’t bother to pause, he knew his castle like the back of his hand. Besides, he didn’t dare stop, not when he could hear that damned song.

 _She_  was gone, he knew that. He had watched her get dragged back to the ocean for some sort of punishment. He had never asked Mikleo what it was, because it hadn’t mattered. In that moment he’d been free of her and able to think, and he had been grateful. He had thought it was over.

Sorey shook his head, so occupied with trying to chase the song and  _her_  voice out of his head that he almost fell down the stairs.

His feet slipped out from under him, Sorey twisting around to scramble at the railing to keep himself from tumbling down the stairwell. He winced as his arms took his weight, Sorey glancing back over his shoulders. It wasn’t a bad fall, just the gentle curve of the stair case in the dark. But there was every chance that he would smack against the wall on the way down, or break his neck. Sorey tightened his grip on the railing, hauling himself closer to it to rest his forehead against the marble. It wasn’t as cold as the window, but it helped.

He stayed curled against the railing for a moment longer before pushing himself upright. He kept one hand on the railing, the steadiness of it soothing him. It felt more solid than he felt, and it was familiar and home. Better still, it was marble, it was of the earth and exactly the opposite of the creature that had tortured him.

Sorey winced and looked over his shoulder, watching for movement on the landing. There wouldn’t be anyone up this late, or so he hoped. But there was no telling with Mikleo. Mikleo was a law unto himself. Sorey didn’t know if it was just Mikleo being nervous or a part of what Mikleo was. Sorey had never asked. He didn’t know if Mikleo and Symmone were very different, the thought sending a shiver down his spine, Sorey turning away and making his way purposefully down the stairs.

It didn’t matter, because he had asked Mikleo to stay. He didn’t know why, he had just been glad that he could control himself and the years of longing had caught up with him. Maybe some part of him had wanted protection from  _her_ , but Sorey hoped that it was not the only reason. Beneath the panic and the fear, he wanted to believe that some part of him still loved Mikleo. It was just hard to find that when it was at night. At night, there was only desperate distraction.

Sorey stepped onto the ground floor, staring at the shadows of the furniture. That was familiar too, Sorey taking a deep breath. He took a moment to look around the room, revealing in the freedom to do so. He was so used to having his movements so precisely controlled, so the simple act of looking around was a novelty. He lingered a moment longer before moving off.

He couldn’t stand in the entryway forever, there was plenty of things to do that would occupy his attention. It was a pattern he had established, keeping himself occupied at night in the hope that he would one day sleep through it.

It hadn’t happened yet.

Sorey made his way through the halls, seeking out his study by the library. Once, he would have made a beeline for the library, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t even bring himself to stop.

It was the one room that  _she_  had never gone into, which meant that it was still free of whatever pall she had cast over the castle. It still lingered in him, it was the only explanation he had for why he could still hear  _her_  voice and the song.

Sorey reached up to cover an ear, pressing his palm hard against it until he reached the door of his study. He leaned into the door, stumbling into the room as it opened. It was dark, Sorey walking as quickly as he could through the darkness. He reached out in front of him, searching blindly for his desk.

His legs knocked against it, Sorey turning to grope blindly on the surface. He muttered a curse as he felt his hand slide against papers before they were spilling to the floor. Sorey braced himself against the desk, closing his eyes for a moment before renewing his search. There were matches somewhere on the desk. He had left them there the night before. He just couldn’t remember where. It was all a blur.

Sorey groaned and leaned over to press his forehead against the desk, only getting a moment to collect himself before the door was creaking open.

He turned his head, his eyes widening at the shadow that he could see in the doorway. For one, heart-stopping moment, he thought that  _she_ was back.

“Your highness?”

Sorey slumped against the desk at the sound of the familiar voice. He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths before pushing himself upright. “Taccio.”

“What are you doing up?

“It’s nothing.”

That didn’t seem to appease the old retainer. Taccio remained stooped in the doorway, the darkness making it impossible for Sorey to tell what his expression was.

Sorey swallowed, offering the man a smile, even though he didn’t know if Taccio could see him. “I’m fine. I just want to get some work done.”

There was a pause before Taccio spoke again, his voice nearly a whisper. “It’s the fourth night in a row.”

“It’s fine.”

“You need your sleep, sire.”

Sorey started shaking his head before he realized what he was doing. He found that he couldn’t stop the motion, Sorey curling his fingers against the side of the desk. He knew that he should say something to throw Taccio off, to get the man to leave him alone so he could hide away from the voice, song and touch that haunted him. Maybe he would be able to snatch a few more hours of sleep without it waking him again.

He jumped when light flared, Sorey looking across the desk at where Taccio was setting the candle back into place. The old man shook out the match, settling it at the base of the candle before leaning forward to look at him.

Sorey flinched away, closing his eyes as he felt Taccio’s hand on his head. It was bearable, if only just.

He swallowed, relieved that Taccio seemed content to just rest his hand there, like he had when Sorey was young. It was supposed to be comforting, but Sorey wasn’t sure what it was. It was a human hand, and it made his stomach swoop.

“Don’t do this, not tonight.”

Sorey shook his head. “I have things to do. The kingdom…”

“You won’t help like this.”

Sorey licked his lips, feeling himself start to shake. Taccio was like family. Even as a king, Sorey was sure that Taccio would chivvy him back to bed, maybe even back to his room.

The shaking grew worse at the thought. That was the room that was the prison within his prison. That was the room that  _she_  had taken and altered until he didn’t recognize anything inside it. That was the room where he had been the singular focus of her attentions.

_“You’re a lucky man, little king. You’ve got someone with power on your side. Your people will be safe so long as I am kept safe and satisfied. You don’t want any harm to come to them, do you?”_

Sorey choked on a sob, his legs giving out. Distantly he heard Taccio call for him, but he was beyond hearing. He was lost in the sound of  _her_  voice and stolen song.

He crumpled to the ground, curling in on himself. Sorey clutched at his arms, sucking in deep breaths of air around his tears. He felt arms drop around him, Sorey tensing up even as Taccio rubbed at his back.

“Oh, Sorey. We’re here. We’re here.”

Sorey shook his head, not sure what he was trying to say. At a loss, he looked up at Taccio, feeling his stomach twist at the hopefulness in the man’s eyes. There was nothing that he could say in the face of that, not when Taccio believed that everything was going better now. They had suffered as well, and Sorey couldn’t take away this freedom from them. At least they were free.

He dropped his gaze away, his eyes widening as he saw Mikleo in the doorway.

The man was sitting in it, blocking the exit. His knees were drawn up to his chest, making him look small and lost. Sorey wanted to flinch away from the sight, but he couldn’t look away. Mikleo’s hand was in the room, palm up like an offer if he could reach across and take it.

It wasn’t far away, maybe a few steps once he got away from Taccio.

Sorey’s fingers flexed by his side before he slumped against Taccio, numbly accepting the touch from the old man.

It was a matter of a few steps, but he couldn’t cross it, not when he could still hear  _her_  stolen song.


	2. Oh Lord, He’s Somewhere Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did one of these for another Sormik Week, but that was without the seraphim having daemons, so I decided to try a version with them. Title taken from Devil’s Backbone by The Civil Wars.

Mikleo stared at where Sorey and Aino were curled on the bed together. Everything looked normal, Sorey was in a gentle curl around his daemon, one hand buried in her fur. The only thing that was wrong was the look on Sorey’s face. Usually he was so peaceful in his sleep, but the frown hadn’t left his face since he had settled in the room. Not even the rest of the ruin had been enough to distract him, not that Mikleo blamed him. Sorey probably thought that they had all left.

He scooted forward on his knees, reaching out to brush Sorey’s bangs away from his forehead. He studied Sorey’s face for a moment before rubbing gently at the wrinkles there. They didn’t ease, nor did Sorey mutter his name as he was wont. There was nothing, like there had been since Heldalf had disappeared. Sorey and Aino could neither see nor hear them, no matter what he and Vuokko did.

Mikleo glanced down at where his daemon was curled between Aino’s front paws and her chin, the otter looking as miserable as he felt. Then again, it was hard to tell the difference between them with their shared misery.

This was something that neither of them had thought of. Sorey and Aino had always been able to see them and the other seraphim in the village. It was a given fact of their life, just like they knew that they would follow Sorey and Aino when the two of them went down to be among the humans, just like Gramps had always said that they would. They had always been alright with the fact that other people wouldn’t be able to see them. It could be changed, but they were not naïve enough to believe it would happen overnight. As long as Sorey and Aino could see them, they would be alright.

They had never thought for a moment that Sorey would lose his resonance.

Mikleo shifted, looking at Sorey before reaching out to pet Aino. He expected the spark of pleasure from touching Sorey’s soul. It was there, but dulled. It was like the tingling that he sometimes got when he slept on his arm. It looked like Sorey and Aino didn’t feel it at all.

He let his hand rest there for a moment more before letting it fall away. He stared down at his lap, trying to focus on the problem again. Everything had a solution if you looked hard enough, but Mikleo couldn’t begin to tackle this, not when it felt like everything had fallen apart around him. All of the constants that he had depended on were gone, and that left him floundering.

Mikleo rocked back onto his heels, looking up as Vuokko made a chirping noise and slid away from Aino. Mikleo reached out to catch her, cradling her close. The otter rubbed her face into his neck, Mikleo feeling her paws scramble at him. She wanted comfort, but Mikleo didn’t know what to do to help her. He settled for running a hand up and down her back. “I know.”

“I want them _back_.” There was a ferocity in her voice that Mikleo felt through his own being.

They had agreed to Sorey becoming the Shepherd, because that was his choice. They had practiced and fought to become his sub-lords because there was no other place for them. Their place had always been Sorey and Aino’s side and vice versa. They had prepared for every eventuality, except for this. This wasn’t something that they could fight.

Mikleo felt her claws scrape against his skin before she hauled herself up and around his neck. Mikleo reached up to steady her, ignoring the tickle of her whiskers.

The smart thing would be to go and practice. Mikleo didn’t know what the use for it was, but they would be better, stronger. This wouldn’t be able to happen again, although he wasn’t quite sure how it happened in the first place. He would have to find Lailah or Usko for that. The two of them had wandered off with Edna and Aziz. They had said that they were going to check out the area, but it had been easy to see their true reasons for leaving. They wanted to give him time, but time wouldn’t help this. Action would.

He stood up, intending to walk away, but he found himself unable to move. Heldalf and his daemon were far away, but he didn’t know where. For all he knew, the Lord of Calamity had watched them try to fight off the hellions and then fall over the cliff. He could be coming after them, searching for them.

On his shoulders, Vuokko shuddered. Her claws dug into his shoulders before the relaxed. “We’re with the Scattered Bones.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I…I…” Vuokko went quiet, her paws shifting against him. She took a moment before speaking again. “They tried to kill them once before.”

Mikleo nodded, feeling a lash of anger through them. He reached up to rest his fingers on Vuokko’s head. “They did.”

Vuokko hissed. “Bartlow.”

Mikleo went to nod, but then he stopped. There was a possibility that it could have been Bartlow trying to get back at Sorey for refusing to help them. But it wasn’t just Hyland anymore. There was Rolance to consider. There was Heldalf. There were the other kingdoms to consider and thousands of other people. People had been so excited to see the Shepherd, but there had been just as many who didn’t want him around.

He had known that they had had enemies, but the extent was wider than he had first thought.

He licked his lips, looking back at where Sorey and Aino were sleeping before sinking down onto the bed. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Vuokko…there’s the entire world to consider.”

The otter went still, and then she cursed. Mikleo tipped his head to the side to lean his cheek against his fur. “You saw how they came after Alisha.”

He felt her nod. “They would do the same thing with Sorey. But we were careful.”

“Until Glaivend Basin.”

“Rolance saw him.”

“Hyland saw him.”

Vuokko shuddered. “We didn’t follow orders.”

“Damn it.” Mikleo leaned forward, taking a deep breath. Vuokko shifted on his shoulders, Mikleo feeling the soft, wet pressure of her tongue against his cheek. Mikleo reached up to rest his hand on her back, looking over at where Sorey and Aino were still asleep. “We need to work harder.”

“We can do it here.” Vuokko scrambled up to peer at the door. “No one will bother him while he’s sleeping.”

“Can we trust them?”

She subsided into grumbling, which was answer enough. Mikleo took a deep breath, reaching out to rest a hand on where Sorey was resting his hand on Aino so he could touch the two of them at the same time. Mikleo stared at them before nodding. “We’ll do it here, maybe back in the corner, nothing should get to him there.”

“We can keep an eye on them.” Vuokko turned towards the door, Mikleo feeling her jolt of surprise before she went still.

Mikleo twisted to look, narrowing his eyes at the wind seraph standing in the door. It was the one that had been following Rose around, his daemon perched primly on his shoulder. Mikleo watched as the bird leaned forward before fluffing up its feathers, the green ends making the bird stand out against the seraph’s black jacket.

“That’s a taboo.”

Vuokko slid down her back to perch at the end of the bed hiss at the bird. “It’s none of your business.”

The bird let out a chittering laugh, its body bobbing up and down. The seraph reached up almost absently to pet the bird. “It is after I put in all that effort to save him,”

“They’re not yours.” Mikleo started to his feet, calling on his staff. He didn’t want to attack the seraph, but he couldn’t quite calm the worry that ran through him and his daemon.

The bird tipped her head to the side. “You should have taken better care of them.”

“We tried!”

The seraph seemed to stare at him for a while before he rolled his shoulders, the motion unsettling his daemon. The bird fluttered up before settling down. That seemed to be enough to get her to mind her manners, but the seraph’s scrutiny didn’t stop. “Why didn’t you do the armatus?”

“What?”

“Isn’t that what it’s called?” The seraph tipped his head to the side.

He made his vague motion, his daemon picking up where he left off. “When your Shepherd uses your artes.”

Mikleo narrowed his eyes. “It’s not as easy as that.”

The seraph seemed to be satisfied enough with the answer, but he didn’t go away. He just tipped so he was leaning against the doorway, his daemon fluttering over to his other shoulder. She settled there, apparently perfectly happy to stay there. Mikleo frowned at them, his fingers curling more tightly around where he was holding onto Sorey and Aino. The motion got another fluff of feathers from the seraph’s daemon, but nothing more.

Vuokko inched forward a little more before giving a derisive chitter and bounding back to his side. Mikleo was sure that she made a point of climbing up against Sorey and to slide back to his other side against his neck and under his chin. Mikleo watched her go, frowning at the last of response, both from Sorey and from any feeling of his daemon touching Sorey. He was sure that the lack of anything was just as bad as Sorey not being able to see them.

He rubbed his thumb against Sorey’s hand and into Aino’s fur, trying to comfort himself that way. It was an empty comfort, but at least it was something. At least Sorey and Aino were still with them. He would hold onto that victory.

Mikleo watched as Vuokko set herself up in a little curl just under Sorey’s chin, in the small gap there between Sorey and Aino. Mikleo wished that he could do the same, but he couldn’t relax, not with the seraph watching. He was tempted to try and train. It would be useful considering they had no idea what they would be facing now. It would also be a subtle threat, although Mikleo had a feeling that the seraph wouldn’t be so easily scared away. But he couldn’t bring himself to step away from Sorey. There was still some part of him that was afraid that Sorey would vanish from his sight if he let go. He knew it didn’t work that way, but there was some small part of his mind that insisted that it was true. If it was so easy for Sorey to be unable to see him, maybe the reverse was true.

Mikleo scooted closer to Sorey and Aino, only satisfied when he could feel them both pressing up against him. It was the only reassurance he was likely to get until Lailah told him what was going on. Until then, he would remain vigilant, Mikleo settling into his familiar watch over Sorey and Aino.

* * *

[Mikleo – Vuokko - North American River Otter](https://ssl.c.photoshelter.com/img-get2/I0000B0fcdXQFvqQ/fit=1000x750/MmWe-0244.jpg)   
[Sorey – Aino – Great Pyrenees](https://s3.amazonaws.com/cdn-origin-etr.akc.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/12232533/Great-Pyrenees-Care.jpg)   
[Lailah – Usko -  Nine Banded Armadillo](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/b4/Nine-banded_Armadillo.jpg/1200px-Nine-banded_Armadillo.jpg)   
[Edna – Aziz - African Elephant](https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/brainwaves/files/2014/02/Ferris-Tanzania-303.jpg)   
[Dezel -Sati - Giant Cowbird](http://www.oiseaux.net/photos/jean-michel.fenerole/images/vacher.geant.jefe.2p.jpg)


	3. The Pen is Mightier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made the mistake of watching  
> Princess Tutu again. That and I abruptly remembered that [siciel](https://tmblr.co/mDDDhPDqTYsOUfjrM788cNQ) had drawn [Mikleo](https://twitter.com/s_koup/status/935492482724433920) [as](https://twitter.com/s_koup/status/934385124724133888) [ a](https://twitter.com/s_koup/status/970262662327218176) [ballerina](https://twitter.com/s_koup/status/970311045800751114)  
> and I just had to.
> 
> Warning: Tales of Berseria spoilers

_The princess pushed to the side of her knight. It was hard to fight against the hellions, especially knowing that they were the townspeople that had sheltered her for so many years. It was hard because she knew the fate of her knight, to be torn apart by the hellions that she was facing in the defense of the people. It had happened once._

_It would happen again._

“No.”

_She would have to watch as her best friend was torn in two, and it was all because of her. All because she allowed Symmone to get close enough. She should have listened to Rose in the first place, because then it wouldn’t have come to this._

_Maybe it was best that she shatter her heart again and trap the Lord of Calamity._

“No. Don’t you dare. I won’t let you.”

_Her forward motion was arrested by a hand on her arm. Princess Alisha turned to look at the Shepherd. Her gaze lifted to the turquoise jewel that sparkled in the center of his circlet. She felt her heart pound with the gentle pulse of light in the center, distracted by it for a moment before she focused on his violet eyes._

_The Shepherd looked serious, although he didn’t look like he was ready to run. Then again, he had never run from anything, not even when things got tough. She smiled at him, closing her eyes to take a deep breath before fixing him with a serious look. “What should we do?”_

_The Shepherd paused, his gaze moving to where Rose was fighting through the hellions before he swallowed. “We have to stop him.”_

_“But any means necessary.”_

“No!” His hand moved back over the paper scribbling the word out before attempting again.

_“We have to stop him.”_

_“But any means necessary.”_

Another line, another correction.

_“We have to stop him.”_

_“But any means necessary.”_

“Damn you.”

“Oh, is it not cooperating?”

Sorey froze at the voice, staring down at the ink stained paper. He swallowed, feeling the tug of the story and its demands. It would keep running on the way it was intended if he didn’t do something, but he had to be see who was talking. There were hellions out on the streets and Malfore was not the most vigilant of guards. He was more worried about making sure everything was exactly as every other Mayvin had done.

He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, his eyes widening as he saw Malfore still crouched by the door, watching everything that was going on with wide eyes. In between Malfore and himself was an elderly man, the man leaning close to stare at what Sorey was writing. He went to cover it up, surprised when the man didn’t take offense to it. In fact, the man just smiled slowly.

“The story is fighting you, is it? That means you aren’t doing it right.”

Sorey glared at him, feeling the story tug at him. He needed to get back to it, but the man took all of his attention, especially since he wasn’t quite all there. Every once and a while his form would waver. Sorey looked the man up and down before his gaze flicked over to the portrait that Malfore had hung on the wall.

His breath caught in his throat as he recognized the man. “Melchior Mayvin.”

Melchior bowed. “As present as I will ever be.” The old man looked up at him, a smile on his face. “It looks like you are one of mine, and still in possession of your hands. You must be lucky.”

Sorey reached over to rub at his wrist, hating the way that Melchior’s gaze followed the motion. He didn’t dare to look at the man’s sleeves, he was almost afraid of what he would see. Malfore had told him that Melchior Mayvin had shared his power, that it had been passed through the family, the power to bring stories to life. Melchior had had his hands cut off for that, as has Michael and the grandfather that Sorey had never known. 

Malfore’s records had been very clear, there were only two Mayvins that had kept their hands. Him, because he had been hidden away any time that the people had come to his house and Magilou because she had managed to leave the city, although Sorey still didn’t know how she had managed that, but he couldn’t do the same. It was his duty to finish this.

Sorey turned back around, mentally reaching for the threads of the story. If he could just twist them into something usable, then he could managed to right this disaster. The problem was, he didn’t know how to make the story bend to his will. He hadn’t been able to do that yet.

He swallowed and dipped his quill into the ink, pausing when he heard Melchior laugh.

“You’re being pulled around by the story, boy. No wonder it’s not going your way.”

Sorey gritted his teeth and bent over, starting to write again as he tried to ignore Melchior.

_The Shepherd looked at her mournfully, his hand reaching up to touch his circlet. “If you’re going to fight, you will need the rest of your heart.” The Shepherd hesitated for a moment before taking off his circlet and hold it in his hands. He twisted it nervously before looking up at Alisha. “The last piece is here.”_

“What?!” Sorey ignored the sound of Melchior laughing behind him. He gave up his weak hold on the story threads, listening to what was going on with horror.

_The Shepherd played with the circlet before holding it out. “I didn’t know in the beginning, but I realized that this is one of them. But it means that I can’t help you in the end.” His voice caught. “I won’t be able to see you again.”_

_Princess Alisha stared at the circlet before shaking her head. “No, we need all the help we can get.”_

_“But you can’t defeat him without all of your heart.”_

_That was true, but she didn’t want to do that. Three was better than just one, especially when she knew what would happen to Rose. She looked over at her knight._

_Rose was going to die, it was written, it was fated. Before she might have thought they could fight, but not so anymore. Things were going the same way they had before, when she had escaped from the story with the Lord of Calamity. Her knight was going to be torn to pieces by hellions, and she was going to have to give up her heart again._

_Alisha felt a spark of rage before she let it fade away. This was her duty as princess, to protect the people. Alisha sighed, reaching out to take the circlet._

“No.” Sorey slowed the pen’s progress with a grunt of effort, watching as it quivered.

He could feel the story’s impatience and how light his hold on it was. It could go tearing away from him at any moment, eager to continue on its course. With its annoyance Sorey could feel a longing. It had been going for so long, moving to this end. It wanted to be over, to wrap up the loose ends that gaped like injuries in the fabric of itself. Sorey was tempted to try and soothe the ache that he could feel the echoes of, but that would mean losing what he had caught his attention, and Sorey was sure that the story was not about taking advantage of his inexperience.

He groped around until he felt the rage that Alisha had felt. He grabbed onto that, holding it in place as he started to muscle the story into line. “You’re not going to give up. Things won’t be the same.”

_Alisha paused, her hand hovering over the circlet before letting it rest over it. She smiled, looking at the Shepherd. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”_

_The Shepherd felt his heart beat faster, because this was the end, this was how it should be. He had accomplished his task, and he felt glad about it. He still remembered the day that he saw Alisha on the banks of his lake, drifting through the world like a ghost with Rose and Sorey trailing after her. The two of them had looked worried and Alisha had looked so beautiful and so sad. Something in him had been pulled by that. He wanted to help her, to help all of them because they had looked too sad for such a beautiful day._

_He tightened his grip on the circlet, his stomach twisting. This was the end. Before, he had been so sure that they could manage to beat the story. Now, he wasn’t quite so sure._

_He closed his eyes, trying to ignore how his hands shook._ Sorey.

“I’m here, Mikleo. I’ve got you.”

_He sighed and looked at Alisha, giving her a nod. He intended to release his circlet into her care, but he stopped. If this was the end, then there was business that he had to take care of. There were things Alisha had to know, no matter what would happen to him. After all, the Shepherd had served his purpose. In the end, Mikleo was just a duck. A duck couldn’t fight hellions. He would be nothing more than a snack._

_Mikleo took a deep breath, opening his mouth to let the words slip that he had guarded against so much. “I-”_

“ ** _NO!_** ” Sorey pulled hard on the story threads, bringing his hand to a stop. He felt the spark of Mikleo’s confusion, quickly giving way to recognition. He felt Mikleo reach out along the connection through the story, Sorey wishing that he could do the same. It took all his concentration to keep the story from advancing the way it wanted to go.

He shook his head, gritting his teeth as he kept his hand still. It wasn’t time to start writing again, he needed to twist and move the threads of the story to get them the way he wanted, and that took all of his attention.

Sorey closed his eyes, fighting against what the story wanted as he tried to bring things back in order.

Rose wouldn’t die.

Alisha wouldn’t shatter her heart again.

Symmone wouldn’t be lost to the darkness that was claiming her.

Mikleo wouldn’t turn into a speck of dust and disappear.

He felt the story rebel, the threads threatening to tear from his grasp and keep going. Sorey gritted his teeth, reaching for them again. They were almost free, readying to spin the tale to its tragic end. Sorey hissed out a breath between his teeth, reaching out to get a better hold when he felt a hand on his wrist.

Sorey opened his eyes, the threads fleeing from him as Melchior pressed his hand back to the page. That was all it took, Sorey watching in horror as his hand started writing, Melchior dictating as it went along.

“The Shepherd closed his mouth, holding back the feelings that threatened to burst forth. It was best that he keep quiet and not burden the princess, but certainly this was better than being such a lowly creature as a duck. Surely, it would be better to allow this one thing before the end after keeping it back for so long.”

_“Alisha…I…”_

Sorey shot a dirty look at Malfore, reaching out to grab at his hand. He tried to jerk it to a stop, but he could only stare as it kept going, Sorey not sure if it was driven by the sound of Melchior’s voice or the story itself as it roared back into motion.

“He remembered the day that he saw her back the lake, ethereal and elegant, something that he had never seen in his life. He remembered the way that he had watched her walk, watched her dance. It was a beauty not seen on the lake. A beauty that compelled him, because he did love her. With all of his heart.”

_“What I’m trying to say is…” Mikleo took a deep breath, closing his eyes._

“He needed to do this now, before it was all too late. They would fight and they would strive, because they must. But there was every chance that they would fail. In that case, Alisha needed to know this. It didn’t matter that she would forget it when her heart was eventually shattered again. It was either a return to his mundane, purposeless existence as a duck or to reach out her to and become a mote of light.”

 _Mikleo took another deep breath before pausing._ Purposeless?

Sorey felt it then, another shift, another avenue for the story to go. He reached out for it, grabbing a hold of Mikleo’s anger and twisting it with Alisha’s. There too was Rose’s determination and Symmone’s despair at being used and forgotten. Maybe that would be enough for him to get a better hold on the story. After all, it was made up by the characters and their actions, they couldn’t be forgotten. To do that would be to negate everything.

He got a better hold on the pen, trying to get it to stop, but it kept going slowing finishing out what Melchior had told him. Sorey frowned and twisted to look at where Melchior was staring grinning at him. He would start talking soon, and Sorey didn’t have enough control of the story to resist him, even if Melchoir was a memory kept alive by the story itself. It wasn’t his story after all, it was still Melchior’s. If he wanted to do something, it would have to be abrupt.

Sorey glanced frantically around for something that would stop the story from progressing. It had what he needed for the shift, but he needed to get himself free first.

His gaze fell on the letter opener kept to one side, Sorey staring at the rubies in the dragon’s eyes before he reached for it. He grabbed at the hilt, Sorey trying not to think too much about what he had to do before stabbing the letter opener into his hand.

Sorey screamed at the pain, just barely stopping himself from driving the blade all the way through his hand. The pen was stopping with what he had, and he still had to write the story.

Sorey curled forward around his injured hand, gasping for breath. He could feel the story settling into a quiet place, using Mikleo’s indecision to allow them to wait, but it wouldn’t wait long.

He breathed out slowly and turned to look at Melchior, careful not to move the letter opener in his hand further. “I won’t let you.”

Melchior blinked slowly at him. “What?”

“I. Won’t. Let. You.” Sorey took a deep breath, fighting through the pain. For a moment, he thought he saw Melchior waver, but the man looked solid and real enough in the next minute. He swallowed, not daring to look away. “I’m not going to let you twist them to end this story.”

Melchior stared at him before laughing. “They’re characters in a story.” He made a vague waving motion to the outside. “They are figures I created.”

“They’re real.”

“Rose and Symmone may be, but Alisha is my creation. As is Mikleo. The boy was a duck until I added him into the story. Everything he is was because of me.”

Sorey shook his head. “You gave him the chance but everything else he did himself. He made friends, made a life for himself. He decided to keep collecting Alisha’s heart shards, to keep dancing. He decided to give up his circlet instead of remaining human.”

“What can he do as the Shepherd? Dance?”

“You gave him those powers.”

“With the expectation that he would follow to his inevitable end.” Melchior shrugged. “This was supposed to be my great story, a great tragedy to counter all of that petty nothingness that others were writing. But, as a Mayvin, you would understand that.”

“I don’t.” Sorey took a deep breath, feeling out the threads of the story. He could fell all of their confusion and, above it all, Mikleo’s worry. He shook his head. “They deserve better than being thrown into a tragedy.”

“But…the rest is meaningless.”

“What about it is meaningless?” Sorey jerked the knife out of his hand, staring at the wound. Blood was flowing down, staining the paper. Sorey winced and uncurled his fingers from the pen, surprised that he was allowed. Since he had picked it up the story had controlled his hand.

He sucked in a breath, flexing his fingers. The pain made him double over, Sorey staring at the half finished story before nodded. The story needed to be shaped and guided, or else Melchior would win and he would lose everything.

Sorey fumbled at one of the drawers with his good hand, giving up quickly. He dug into his pocket, eventually pulling out Mikleo’s handkerchief, the one that he had been meaning to return. If he did this Sorey was sure that the handkerchief would be ruined. If he didn’t, then there wouldn’t be anyone to return it too, which made his heart pound hard in his chest. He didn’t want that.

He clumsily wrapped the handkerchief around his hand, having to use his mouth to tug the handkerchief into place. Sorey grunted as he tugged it tight, not wanting it to slip. He didn’t know what would happen if his words were obscured, but he didn’t want to risk it, not now. He tugged on the knot again before flexing his fingers. His hand hurt, and Sorey could see the blood darkening the makeshift bandage, but it would work. He would make it work.

Sorey took a deep breath, reaching for the pen. He froze when he heard Melchoir clear his throat, shooting his ancestor a glare. The man looked like he was ready to start off where he had left. Sorey shaking his head. “No.”

Melchoir chuckled and shook his head. “You are young and inexperienced. Untrained. You don’t know how to handle this power. It’s clear by the ending you’re striving towards.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Melchior’s face twisted. “It has no meaning.”

“It does to them. It does to  _me_. And that’s all that matters.”

“But it’s childish.”

“How is it childish to want to live? To want to save people? What about to change?” Sorey turning away from him, listening to Melchior sputter. “Tragedy doesn’t automatically add meaning.”

“But this is my story!”

“It was.” Sorey lowered the pen to the paper, feeling a jolt of awareness from the others outside. He smiled at the paper, speaking out loud. He didn’t know if they could hear him, but he hoped that they could at least feel him. He might not be able to fight directly by their sides, but he could help them like this. “Don’t worry, I’m still here.”

Through their disparate strands he felt some form of acknowledgement, even from Symmone. Hers was a long drawn out wail, Sorey shaking with it. He couldn’t tell if it was for help or some threat to keep him away, but he wouldn’t stop now.

Distantly, he could hear Melchior screaming at him, but he turned his attention back to the story. He still had a hold of the threads that he had used to haul the story to a stop, but the story was fighting him again. It felt different though, like eager tugging more than something that threatened to pull him from his metaphorical feet. It was only a matter of time before it started again.

Sorey set his pen to the paper, feeling the story tug, and then he his hand was moving on its own. It wasn’t at the speed as it was before, which meant that he was at least nominally in control.

Melchior’s scolding turned into shouting, mingling with the wailing from Symmone. Sorey swallowed hard, pushing the sound of their voices out of his head. It was just a matter of relegating the noises to the same place where the growls of the hellions and Malfore’s terrified squeaks were. He focused on the words, each stroke making the wound in his hand throb and ache, a thin trail of blood underling the story behind his pen.


	4. The Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of an idea from Sormik Week, and also based off of Tales of Zestira the X.
> 
> Warnings: Spoilers for Tales of Berseria.

Things had been strange since Sorey had gotten back.

Mikleo hadn’t expected them to be the same, Sorey had been stuck within the Earthpulse with Heldalf for a long time. He didn’t know what Sorey had been doing during that time. He didn’t even know what was in the Earthpulse. All he knew was that Sorey was back and that it would take time for things to return to normal. So much had changed after all, but he had looked forward to that too. He had dreamed about showing Sorey around the world for all the years he had been missing.

Now he dreamed about other things, mostly Sorey calling for help.

The dreams had unnerved him, but not as much as the fact that Sorey was sneaking away from him.

It had started out a small thing, something that Mikleo could count as a distraction. But hours were concerning. Hours and coming back smelling of malevolence was worse.

Sorey might have been a Shepherd, if only on a technically, but Mikleo knew what that kind of malevolence processing felt like. This was Sorey absorbing it and not moving it anywhere. And then, within a few hours it would be gone again. It wasn’t right, and that was just the first thing. The second was the way that Sorey was starting to ignore him. And it got worse the closer they got to Elysia.

Mikleo frowned as he pushed himself against the side of the building, risking another glance around the corner and down the street. The streets of the small village were deserted, save for where Sorey was stumbling down the street. Mikleo narrowed his eyes. It almost looked like Sorey was drunk, but he hadn’t been eating or drinking, which was strange. There was no sign that Sorey was a seraph. That didn’t leave him much to go on. It just made him wish that he had contacted the others immediately when Sorey had come back instead of trying to steal time on their own.

He bit his lip, looking nervously over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he was afraid of following him, but something about this whole thing kept him on edge.

Mikleo swung his gaze back to the street, cursing when he saw that he had lost track of Sorey. He remained pressed against the wall for a moment longer before pushing away.

He stumbled out into the open, looking around. There weren’t many side streets that he had to look through, which was a relief. He wanted to find Sorey as fast as possible and get answers out of him. If that didn’t happen then Mikleo was sure that Edna or Zaveid would be in the village early in the morning, if his message from the last town got to them on time. If not, then they were close enough to Elysia. Mikleo didn’t relish the idea of keeping Sorey restrained all the way to Elysia, but he would take anything over what was happening.

Mikleo broke into a jog, giving the alleys he passed quick looks as he jogged past. In his rush, he almost missed the one he was looking for. It wasn’t until he heard a muffled scream that he skidded to a stop.

He spun in place, seeing movement in the shadows. He saw something flailing, Mikleo frowning and calling on his staff. He hefted it in his hand, advancing cautiously.

The muffled noises continued, although they changed to sobbing and a strange gurgling noise. Mikleo frowned and hefted his staff into a better position for the close quarters, ready to swing down when there was a thud and a sigh of relief. Mikleo shifted to the side to let light pass him, stopping dead when he saw the crumpled, wide eyed body on the floor. His first instinct was to get closer to check if they were breathing, but there was another person in the way, another person straightening up and wiping their mouth. Mikleo saw a flash of white, his gaze drawn to the glove and the smear of red and purple

Mikleo swallowed and looked up at the other person, his stomach twisting horribly as he recognized their features, even when smeared with blood and streaks of solidified malevolence. “Sorey.”

Sorey froze, turning his head to look at him. For a moment, his chin lifted, Mikleo faced with an expression that he had never seen on Sorey. It was haughty and imperious. And, as quickly as it came, Sorey was back, his eyes wide with horror.

“Mikleo?”

Mikleo looked front the blood on Sorey’s glove to his face, biting his lip before pushing it away. That was for discussion later, when they weren’t on the streets and when he could turn the situation to his favor. There was someone that needed help, Mikleo could see the person twitching on the ground.

He stepped forward, trying to conjure up a smile. “What are you doing out here?”

“Mikleo…” Sorey stared at him, jerking back when Mikleo reached out to touch him. It wasn’t what he expected, Mikleo trying to reach for him again when Sorey stumbled back.

Sorey almost tripped over the person on the floor, just barely recovering his footing in time to hop over them. Sorey looked down at the person that was twitching on the ground before letting out a strangled wail. Sorey doubled over, one hand reaching out to brace himself against the wall as he threw up.

Mikleo rushed to help him, rubbing his hand up and down Sorey’s back. He expected to see vomit, but instead it looked like the dark purples and blacks of malevolence.

He recoiled slightly, staring at Sorey. None of this made sense to him.

At a loss, he touched Sorey’s back again. He let his hand linger there for a moment, moving when Sorey didn’t protest. Mikleo wrapped his arms around Sorey, holding him close. He pressed his cheek against Sorey’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “Zaveid and Edna are on their way. What can we do until then?”

Sorey heaved again, Mikleo wincing at the sound. He pressed a kiss against Sorey’s shoulder, not knowing if it would help or not, but it was the only thing he could think to do at the moment. They needed to wait this out, get the other person some help and then starting working to get to the bottom of what was happening.

Mikleo rubbed his hand against Sorey’s back. He thought he heard Sorey say something, a whisper under the next round of coughing. Mikleo paused and lifted his head, not quite catching what Sorey had said. “What?”

Sorey pushed away from the wall, wiping his mouth on the back of his glove. He grimaced at what was there before tugging the glove off and throwing it on the ground. He nudged it aside before turning to look at Mikleo. Sorey took a deep breath, squaring his shoulder. “You need to go.”

Mikleo jerked back at that. His first reaction was anger. He wasn’t just going to leave because of this, he was stranger now. He had just gotten Sorey back and he was not about to get pushed away. He wasn’t the young seraph who had come along on that first journey, not anymore.

He rolled his shoulders back, glaring down Sorey. “No.”

There was a flash of pain across Sorey’s eyes, but then his jaw tensed. He glared right back, hands fisting at his sides. “I’m not asking, Mikleo. It’s for your own good.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Mikleo looked Sorey up and down, shaking his head at how thin Sorey was. There were bags under his eyes too, part of the reason that Mikleo had insisted on stopping for the night in the village instead of pushing ahead like Sorey had wanted. Now, he was even surer that it had been the right choice. “And for your own good, I think I’d better stick around.”

“You don’t understand. You-” Sorey cut himself off with a shudder, stumbling back against the wall. His whole body jerked, Sorey clawing at his arms.

Mikleo lunged forward, reaching for him only for Sorey to slap his hands away. “Stay away!”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Please. Mikleo.  _Run!_ ”

Mikleo growled and reached for Sorey’s wrists, his staff falling forgotten on the ground. “I told you, I’m not-”

Sorey’s head snapped up, Mikleo choking on the rest of what he was going to say as Sorey looked at him.

He’d known Sorey for years, and he’d never seen him like this. This was cruel. This was the way that Heldalf had looked.

He took a step back despite himself, Mikleo stopping when his foot knocked into his staff. He glanced down at it at the same time that Sorey did, Mikleo reaching for his artes even as he reached down for the staff. Either would get him what he needed, and would be able to keep Sorey still. He didn’t have the time to wait for Edna and Zaveid. He would haul Sorey to the nearest older seraphim and figure out what was going wrong. He would drag Sorey to Maotelus himself if he had to.

Mikleo lunged forward, his fingers just brushing over his staff when Sorey rushed forward. Sorey’s fingers were around his throat before he could react. The arte he was gathering died as Sorey squeezed, Mikleo gasping in shock as Sorey shoved him up against the alleyway’s opposite wall.

He clawed at the fingers around his neck, kicking to try and knock Sorey back, anything to relieve the pressure. He felt his foot connect, but Sorey didn’t flinch, nor did the unnatural smile leave his face. Sorey just kept smiling,

“You may be one of the stupidest malakhim I have ever met. You know everything about this human, and you suspected nothing.” Sorey chuckled, his voice warping into something else.

Mikleo tensed as Sorey leaned in to smell him, shivering when he felt Sorey’s lips against his neck. It was a shadow of a kiss, Mikleo kicking out when he felt teeth scrape against his neck. It was like he was being  _tasted_.

He gritted his teeth, aiming a kick into Sorey’s stomach. It would hurt Sorey, but it would also distract him enough for Mikleo to act.

He gathered his next art, ready to use a blast of water to force Sorey back and restrain him. He wouldn’t allow himself to do more, because this was still Sorey. No matter what was happening, Mikleo was sure that it was still Sorey.

The thing controlling Sorey seemed to guess at his plan because Sorey’s face contorted. He pulled Mikleo back and up, Mikleo gasping as Sorey lifted him clean off the ground. For a moment, he thought he saw a rag wrapped sword in Sorey’s other hand before Sorey flinched. The sword disappeared and Sorey sneered up at him.

“Damn him.”

Mikleo didn’t get the chance to question what Sorey meant when Sorey pulled him away from the wall. Mikleo grunted and lashed out with his foot and an arte, his eyes widening as ice burst up from the ground. The shard sliced upward before he could stop it, tearing through Sorey’s sleeve. Mikleo stared at the thin line of blood showing, Sorey twisting to look at it.

He huffed at it, reaching with his other hand to touch the cut. Sorey stared at the blood, shaking his head. “When the suppression starts, I think you’ll be one of the first.”

Mikleo opened his mouth to demand answers when Sorey slammed him back into the wall.

Pain sparked in his skull, Mikleo going limp from the shock of it. The world spun in front of his eyes, Mikleo losing track of where Sorey was. The only sure thing was the wall against his back and then the street when he hit the ground.

He reached back to touch where his head had hit the wall, hissing when his fingers touched blood. He pulled his fingers away, staring at them for a moment before looking down the alley again. He could just make out a figure running off out onto the street, the white of the Shepherd’s cloak flickering behind him.

Sorey stopped at the end of the alley, too far away for Mikleo to see his expression. That didn’t stop him from reaching out, hoping that whatever strange thing had happened was done with. Even if it was, it was better to be cautious, no matter how much it hurt him to be.

Mikleo gritted his teeth and flung out an arte, the dizziness from his head making it fall short of his mark. He cursed, watching as Sorey’s chin tilted up, and then he was gone.


	5. Far Away For Far Too Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a rule that everything I do has to relate to Code Geass at some point. That’s just how things are. Titles taken from Far Away by Nickelback.

Sorey looked out the window as the countryside flew by to the steady rattle of the train over the tracks. He swayed absently with it, not really seeing it. He was sure that they would be hitting the border with Lohgrin soon, which meant that they would be that much closer to their destination. Which meant that they were closer to when he would need to act in the service of the empire that he had pledged himself to.

Sorey swallowed, playing with the edge of his blue and gold cape. It sat heavily on his shoulders, a horrible reminder of what he had done. Sorey licked his lips, staring down at the cape before reaching for the clasp. He wanted to pull it off, because the other uniform was more like the uniform he had worn as Knight of Honor. He was far more comfortable in that than he was in as a Knight of the Round.

He flicked the clasp open about to shake the coat off when he heard boots. He paused, looking sheepishly over his shoulder at the guard that was walking his way. Sorey left his cape over his shoulders, very aware of it as the woman bowed. “Honorable Knight of Seven, we’ll be crossing over into Lohgrin in ten minutes and be at the capital in half an hour.”

At a loss of what to do, Sorey nodded. The guard seemed to take that as an appropriate answer because she straightened up. “If you could alert the emperor’s representative.”

He nodded again, taking a step back down the hall. The woman let him go, seeming to be perfectly content to leave it at that. Sorey was glad of it too. He didn’t want anyone hovering over him. He was already horrible at lying, he didn’t need anyone making him nervous enough to forget the story.

Sorey played with the chain of his cape as he waited for the woman to walk away. Even then he glanced around for other guards. The emperor would have them under watch after everything, and he could never be too careful.

He swallowed and retreated towards the prince’s cabin, taking an extra moment to glance around before turning to key in the code. His fingers fumbled over the keys, Sorey having to reenter the numbers a few more times. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before trying again. This time, the door slid open smoothly, revealing the opulent cabin inside. It was enough to make Sorey want to be careful, because it was all so expensive. Too expensive for a person like him.

Sorey stuck close to the door, looking around the cabin. It was just as he left it, which was a relief. The guards knew not to bother their esteemed passenger no matter the circumstance. They were just there to guard the train. Sorey was there to guard the man the emperor sent to enter into talks with Lohgrin either to join into an alliance or to start the surrender. Sorey wasn’t sure either was what anyone wanted, but he had no other choice.

They had no other choice.

He turned to look in the darkest corner of the room, sighing when he saw the figure crouched there. Sorey walked over to them, dropping into a crouch. Without thinking, he pulled his cape off, about to offer it to Mikleo when he stopped himself. There was no telling what state Mikleo was in at the moment, it fluctuated in patterns that he didn’t understand. For all he knew, the cape could cause a setback.

Sorey dropped it on the floor, settling for touching Mikleo’s shoulder. When the prince didn’t start, Sorey inched closer. “Mikleo?”

For a moment, Mikleo didn’t respond. The longer it dragged out, the more Sorey was sure that he was calling on the wrong person. He squeezed Mikleo’s shoulder before daring to wrap his arm around Mikleo. He tipped his head to rest his head against Mikleo’s. “We’re almost there.”

“Good.” Mikleo’s voice sounded distant, Sorey resisting the urge to pull Mikleo closer. He didn’t want to do anything until he was sure that he had  _his_  Mikleo back.

Mikleo was silent for another moment before he nodded. “The…others…”

Sorey sighed in relief at the vague question. It was obvious that Mikleo was struggling, but at least he was there.

Sorey dropped so he was sitting on the floor, gently coaxing Mikleo closer. Of his own volition, Mikleo clambered into his lap, Sorey wrapping his arms around Mikleo. It felt more like Mikleo was trying to hide against him, so Sorey held him tight, his gaze fixed on the door. He was sure that no one would come in, but he was still going to be careful.

Sorey rested his cheek against the top of Mikleo’s head, talking quietly so his words didn’t carry beyond them.

“I haven’t been able to contact Rose or Lailah, not since last time. Rose assured me that she would have people up there for us to contact.” He paused as he heard the jingle as Mikleo turned his head. Sorey made a disgusted noise and reached out to undo the eyepatch over Mikleo’s left eye. He felt Mikleo start to jerk away, but he soothed him with a kiss.

There was a long pause before Mikleo relaxed, Sorey feeling the expectancy in the silence. Sorey nuzzled into Mikleo’s hair. “They’ll make contact within three days, with me not with you.”

“Can’t.”

“I know. I don’t blame you.” He couldn’t, not when it was his fault. Sorey swallowed and pushed on. “We’ll be kept up to date with the plans and what is happening in the empire.”

“Alisha?”

Sorey swallowed and shifted so he could look down into Mikleo’s eyes, one the normal, purple color and the other tinted red with the power that Lailah had given him. Sorey felt a rush of fear and anger, but he pushed it away. What he felt about what had happened at Alisha’s project, the horror, slaughter and anger he didn’t know what to do with. They were all mixed up in the horror that had come when he had finally gotten into Ladylake and had seen what had driven Mikleo to that desperation. With all of his anger and rage, there was the other side to consider.

Sometimes, Sorey wished that he could just ignore that.

He tightened his hold on Mikleo, his heart catching in his throat when he heard Mikleo sigh. “Sorry. Accident.”

“I know.” Sorey glanced at Mikleo’s cursed eye before looking away. He’d heard what had happened. He’d seen how Alisha was when he’d managed to restrain her. He’d seen her in the care of the Scattered Bones. That wasn’t something that Alisha would do ever, not unless she was convinced. It wasn’t natural, and it wasn’t something that he could imagine Mikleo doing, not after everything. And he found that he had to accept some of the apology Mikleo had offered, especially since Mikleo had offered himself for this desperate plan.

All of it. Even when everything that had been calculated went wrong.

He closed his eyes, hugging Mikleo close. It was too much to demand in return for an apology, this ghost of Mikleo that had been created when he had taken the illustrious leader of the Scattered Bones (a lie) and presented him in return for a promotion he believed he wanted and deserved (another lie).

Sorey wanted to apologize for all of that, but it was too late. Until they could get back to Lailah, there was no chance in reversing what had been done, if they could reverse it. For now, it was better to have Lailah working on whatever she could do to help Alisha.

He rubbed his hand up and down Mikleo’s back, focusing on his hair instead of his face. “What do you think?”

Mikleo was silent, Sorey used to the waiting. It didn’t stop the desperation to hear something that sounded like Mikleo, not half there phrases or the imperious orders of Lord Luzrov Rulay, the chief ambassador of the Empire of Hyland.

After everything, he wanted his best friend back.

He licked his lips, leaning back so he was able to look at Mikleo properly. “Mikleo?”

Slowly, Mikleo turned to look at him. For a single moment there was a spark of recognition, but then it disappeared, leaving a vacant stare that wasn’t quite Mikleo, but not at all Luzrov Rulay. It was nothing, a Mikleo completely lost to him and out of his reach.

Sorey sucked in a deep breath and dropped his face into Mikleo’s hair, hiding his tears there as Mikleo reaching out to almost absently pat his arm.

“Hey, Sorey…let’s go to the ruins.”


End file.
